


playing easy

by sebs



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: M/M, also yep it's mature because guess what i like writing sex without actually describing it, bathroom stall blowjob cause why not haha right, i don't get into detail it's entirely in metaphors or feelings, in canon, it's a first meeting fic, we need more of those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 00:37:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14032314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebs/pseuds/sebs
Summary: marvin knew he liked men, and he knew he had to stop seeing them behind his wife's back every month or so. he knew how to resist temptation, how to work his way out of a suggestive conversation, and he knew how to take care of his family.but marvin didn't know whizzer brown. not then. not quite.





	playing easy

**Author's Note:**

> hey, lookit me continuing to abandon multichapters for half hearted oneshots! i'm actually proud of this one though so if you could read it, give it a kudos and everything that'd be cool. also, thanks so much for reading and i hope you enjoy!

Marvin really hated weddings. Ever since he got married. All they were was long, the vows would drone on for what seemed to be hours and the two lovers always felt like they were giving more of a performance than anything else. The music was always terrible, and no one knew each other well enough to have a good time. Marvin could go on and on about how much he hated weddings. But he was trying to be positive.

After all, this was the first “vacation” Marvin and Trina had had in years. It was Jason’s first wedding, and probably the first act of love he’d ever seen since the fights would get louder and louder by the second. And to be honest, maybe Marvin needed the peace, however staged it was.

He had just come out to his therapist, his third one, who had surprisingly taken it well. But with that one secret came many others Marvin tried to forget. The late office meetings, the drunken nights in underground bars, every single incredible memory Marvin  _ needed _ to forget. Especially when Trina’s suspicion followed him around, and crept up closer and closer to him every day.

And so, Marvin sat in the audience, in the second row, and clapped enthusiastically as his college roommate just got married to the love of his life, or so he thinks. He watched and watched, each moment becoming more and more dazed.

 

It wasn’t until the wedding photos that Marvin really started getting interested. Not because of the people, or even the idea of getting his photo taken. What really caught his attention was the photographer.

Wearing a simple white tux, the photographer was only five or six younger than Marvin, but his presence glowed as if he was forever young. Every time he took a picture, he smiled, which almost took Marvin’s heart out. Marvin spent all the time he had watching the photographer snap memories, and continued to follow his movements. Something about him never satisfied Marvin. But every time Marvin looked in his direction, that little thrill would play in his head.

It was exhilarating, but Marvin knew what this was getting into. So he kept his distance best he could.

Until, eventually, during a late point in the night, when Trina was just about ready to leave, the photographer walked over to Marvin. Or rather, to the bar he was sitting at. He bent over the counter, ordered a shot of whiskey, and sat down just a few seats from Marvin, who was eyeing him the entire time.

“Stopped taking photos?” Marvin asked, an empty glass of who knows what still sitting in his hand.

“At this point in the night, it’s for the better,” the photographer replied. “So, how do you know the bride and groom?”

“College roommates,” Marvin said, and before he had the chance to speak, “you?”   
  
He must’ve looked stunned at his own comment, because the second after it slipped out, the photographer began laughing. It sent electricity up Marvin’s spine. He quickly recognized it as something he’d never forget.

“No, no it’s okay, really. I don’t just look pretty and take pictures, either. I’m good friends with the bride.”

“So you live in the city?” Marvin asked.

“Born and raised. What about you?”

“I live just outside, the suburbs.”   
  
“Ooh, fancy. Family man, are you?”    
  
Instead of answering, like he normally would, Marvin asked the bartender for another beer. He hoped the photographer wouldn’t notice, hoped he wouldn’t pay attention, but Marvin instinctively drew his eyes to the boy dancing with his made up mother, the family that was so hard to call his. And where Marvin’s eyes went, the stranger eyes followed. 

“The name’s Whizzer,” he said, sticking his hand out. “That’ll give you something to laugh about.”

"Whizzer?” 

A strange, uncommon cackle arose from Marvin, but it wasn’t just malice. Eventually, Whizzer’s face clicked with the uncanny name, and Marvin realized that was exactly who he should be. He grew serious for a moment, though a silly smile was still plastered onto his face.

“Whizzer,” he repeated. “I’m Marvin.”

“I like it,” Whizzer said, biting his lip. “I’m headed to the bathroom. Maybe I’ll see you later.”

He was gone. It only took Marvin a fraction of a second to process what Whizzer was insinuating. There was no hesitation on Marvin’s part. It was complete impulse. Marvin saw the sharks in the water, but he jumped in head first.

 

Suddenly, they were in a bathroom stall, Marvin pressed against the door. Everything was rushed, but Marvin wouldn’t have had it any other way. The repetitive nature of it gave Marvin the intuition that this situation is not foreign to Whizzer. Perhaps it was the most familiar. The way Whizzer worked on his knees suggested it. 

As for Marvin, he couldn’t have felt more conflicted. The sense of inexperience filled him with uncomfort, but everything else made him giddy, ecstatic, blissful. The longer it went on, the more he loved it. It was so different from every other experience, every experiment Marvin had with men. It had never felt so rushed yet so natural, so passionate and raw. Maybe it was even beautiful.

So when Marvin’s time came, he got down and opened Whizzer’s belt buckle, preparing for excitement. Before he could start, Whizzer placed his hands on Marvin’s head and breathed in.

“You know,” he said, “I don’t care if you have a wife.”

“Good.”   
  
And Marvin went for it.

  
  
  
  



End file.
